Double Trouble
by LovelyKouga
Summary: A teenaged Cornelius is finding it hard to keep up the facade of model student and boyfriend to Franny, and still finds himself pining for Wilbur. Contains oral and general makingoutness with a side helping of incestial crisis. Sequel to 'Troubled Robinson'


**A sequel to 'Troubled Robinson'**

He didn't mean to drag his feet, but he did. It was just one of those things he found himself doing after a date with Franny, a completely involuntary knee-jerk reaction.

Oh sure, he was the model boyfriend while actually with her. Smiling, laughing, taking her out to a fancy restaurant, pulling her chair out for her, telling her she wasn't batshit-crazy when she placed a frog dressed in a dapper little suit onto the seat table…you know, the good boyfriend stuff. It wasn't that he minded that she wouldn't come to terms with the fact she was wrong about the frogs. By all accounts, he should find it to be an adorable little quirk. But it was the fact that he knew too much.

He KNEW in the future she would finally crack and misuse one of his experiments, and genetically enhance her pet frog Frankie to become a teenage-mutant-jazz-frog. He knew all too well. He also knew neither of them would date anyone else, that they would get married and have a dashing son and live in this very house with all of her various kooky family members. As Cornelius threw his school bag down onto the floor and climbed the now-familiar stairs, he admitted to himself one thing.

Life just wasn't an adventure any more.

Not since a certain boy…no, his own son, had whisked him away, far into the distant future and opened his eyes to what it all meant. But this time period, this 'now'…this life was like reading a book he knew off by heart, page-for-page, word-for-word. Chapter-by-chapter, he could predict EVERYTHING, and see it all falling into place as he knew it would. He would go to college next year even though he was only fifteen, because he was brilliant, and he would become a world-famous inventor that would shape the daily lives of countless millions with Franny at his side. He would do it, but not out of love for her. That particular ship had sailed long ago now that he knew where his heart really was. But he had to play the part perfectly, for if he did not, the one he loved most for all of time would cease to exist. He hated to admit it, but life for one Cornelius Robinson had become a predictable, hellish nightmare that he couldn't escape. Each day he had to endure the relentless bullying from mere children, people far below his intellect who didn't know he would someday come to be the father of the future. It was hard not to feel superior when you knew for certain that you were. He had seen it and he had lived it. Three years ago in this very room, he had felt the accomplishment swell his chest with pride, as he realised the glorious future that would come to be from his own hand.

This room was beginning to look how it would. Already the beginnings of Carl the robot were taking shape next to his desk, and he smiled at the noodle arms fondly. Several other inventions were piled up next to the skeleton, all made out of chrome because well, everything was chrome in the future. Tall mirrors lined the wall of his bedroom, half-hidden by mind-maps and blueprints plastered all over them, and the tall blonde stopped for a minute to survey his appearance. His chin was beginning to fill out with the onset of puberty, and his nose had become a little bit sharper as he continued to lose his layer of puppy fat. That would be the infamous overactive thyroid kicking in, talk about your typical nerd. His eyes were sad and appeared watery with the shocking shade of blue, framed by thick glasses, and rivalled only by his equally outrageous head of blonde, gravity-defying hair. That hadn't changed…and he knew it never would. He KNEW.

"A dead giveaway, huh." He said to no one in particular as he ran a large hand through it, the rumble of his voice purring in his chest. Even that had changed, depended, just a little. He knew it was only a little, because he knew how deep it would get in time. Kinda…Tom Sellick-y.

In time, he knew. When it came to matters of time, he always knew.

Exasperated, he rubbed his eyes and placed his glasses on the bedside table, before the pools of blue flicked toward his bed. It was looking ever the more inviting with the melancholy direction his thoughts had wandered to. So he wandered forward, practically falling face-first onto it when his shins hit the edge in the dark. He turned his face to the side on his thick pillow so that he could breathe, cringing a little at his legs that were sure to bruise. He wasn't sure how many times he had done that. Hmm. Tomorrow, he would invent a bed that was impossible to bump your appendages on. Brilliant! Why had no one thought of this before? His mind sprang to life behind his closed eyelids as he mentally drew up the blueprints in his minds eye, finished in mere minutes before he was drifting off to sleep. It was exhausting being him, for even when his body slept, his mind never did. He would have this whole ergonomic problem ironed out by morning. It wouldn't be the first time – once again, he knew that.

That was the last thought he remembered anyway, before he heard a loud yelp from right next to his bed, followed by a considerable weight falling across his back that made all breath leave his body. A burglar?! Had Goob fallen into his old, err, new ways once again? No um –at last? Was he out for revenge after all? Was his adoptive father sneaking into his room? His mind flew to thousands of possibilities, some more disturbing than others, but all he knew was that the pit of his stomach flip-flopped in fear as a masculine voice groaned in pain into his ear; "bloody bed…"  
Cornelius shivered at the tickling air before he twisted underneath the dead weight on top of him, meaning to use his newly acquired upper-body strength to push the perpetrator off of him. But something; a familiar shape maybe, caught his eye, silhouetted in the moonbeams coming through the window he had so carelessly left ajar all day. This man…

"Geeze Lewis, you really gotta invent the anti-gravity bed already, man! Almost broke my freaking toe clean off, I forgot beds used to stick up on wooden stumps. How archaic." The shadowy figure groaned, leaning back onto the balls of his feet and placing a hand on his hip in a rather sassy gesture. Cornelius blinked a few times before his eyes lit up with glee. The figure smirked in a self-satisfied kind of way. "That's right, it is I! Your-"  
"Anti-gravity, of course!" The blonde interrupted while the figure above spluttered in an offended sort of way. "Eliminating all other possibilities, I'd be left with…" His eyes seemed to fog over as he blabbered on and on about sciency mumbo-jumbo. "If I just calibrated the…electromag…field…wait a sec, WILBUR?!" He spluttered, finally recognising the ridiculous quiff of dark hair belonging to the figure currently straddling his hips. Unmistakeable.

"That's right." The figure leant forward slightly, his face finally illuminated by the natural light. "I'm here, Lewis! I've been trying to sneak out for a long time. I'm sorry I couldn't some sooner…" His face held legitimate sadness as he caressed the other boys face with the back of his hand.

"But-" the blonde protested, attempting to sit up and frowning when he found he was pinned down by strong arms. Much stronger than before, in fact. "You…can't be here because-" Is he…flexing? Mmm, distracting. Sweet jesus, those PECS. How long had it been exactly? He'd be sixteen now, right? A year older than him. Wilbur grinned and leaned forward a little more, making the bed creak softly. His almond-shaped eyes were practically smouldering, all deep delicious chocolate and filled with promises of good things to 'come'.

Cornelius shuffled uncomfortably. Hot damn. His science-brain had just turned into puberty-brain.

"Don't act so surprised," Wilbur whispered, barely audible. "You should have known once my hormones kicked in it wouldn't be long before I was howling at your door." Cornelius watched as he licked his lips. Slowly. On purpose.

That dick.

"Well, I would have hoped I would have been smart enough to keep the time machine locked up." He replied.

"Maybe, maybe not." Wilbur chortled, amused how he referred to his dad in the first person. To him, anyway, they were two completely different people. He hadn't always felt that way, the situation was understandably very confusing, but his Dad had helped him realise. Wilbur had come to know Lewis, so calling him Cornelius didn't seem right. Calling him Lewis helped his mind sever any connection to thoughts of his father, and wether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen. Even so, Lewis…Lewis was beautiful, the way he was looking up at him like that, his expression so unsure. Like he knew something incriminating. Well, two could play at that game now couldn't they.

"Maybe…" The raven-haired teen continued, as a pink tongue licked a line daintily all the way up the blonde-haired teens neck, following the line of the tendon drawn taught, stopping when the figure beneath him began to tremble. "Maybe Cornelius left the garage unlocked today on purpose." He smiled at that, his lips glazing warm flesh. "Maybe, he didn't want to deprive you of this. This thing he knew happened today. This thing that has ALREADY happened. Maybe, he didn't want to deprive you of this memory, because he knows how much it means to both of us. Oh, the things I want to do with you, Lewis…" He let out a soft groan as he inhaled the scent of the boy pinned beneath him. His feelings for this boy went far beyond physical attraction, but it was funny what hormones did to you. Lewis' whole body shook as a tremor of desire shot up his spine. He was trying to resist, he really was. Many a time he'd calculated the catastrophic consequences that could happen should they really pursue their relationship, but the spot on his neck tingled and Wilbur's hips shifted and let heard himself give a sharp intake of breath and he could literally hear his resolve crumble into dust. With that, Wilbur clamped down tenderly, sucking greedily at the sensitive spot he remembered and had dreamed about more times than he could count. The blonde sputtered with surprise as his hips gave a violent jolt upwards, ass leaving the bed as his hips collided with Wilbur's. Both uttered noises of surprise when they found harness in each other there – it was so different from the first time (and not just because they could feel how much each had REALLY grown), that fateful night spent in the rumpus dome when they were both so young. Wilbur shuddered with want, writhing against his Lewis, who clawed wantonly at his slightly muscled back in return, almost ripping his t-shirt as he attempted to force his brain to spurt logic into the situation.

"We shouldn't, we musn't, oh-" He panted, a small whine bubbling forth before he could choke it back. He managed to turn his head away as a small defiance, but all it did was expose even more neck to a very greedy mouth that seemed determined to be the end of him. The other teen replied with a desperate moan right against his ear, his voice impossibly deep yet somehow still the same.

"Oh fuck, Lewis, hearing you say that…" he panted, starting a pressing rhythm with his whole body, pushing the younger flat against the sheets and making him almost scream in pleasure as their cocks grinded against each other through their clothes. Lewis pursed his lips together and moaned almost through his nose, raising his hips again and again as the relentless motions continued to undo his resolve. Fuck, how he'd wanted this. It's not like he could deny it any more, what with the way Wilbur was now snaking his hand into the front of his boxer shorts to touch him directly. Without any hesitation, he wrapped his hand around his cock and ran his thumb over the head once before he began to pump, at last bringing his mouth to his partner's in a passionate and soul-crushing kiss. Their tongues slipped against each other's; slick and hot and perfect, and Wilbur gasped against the other's lips when he felt a hand begin to return the favor in his own pants. "Lewis!" He cried out, tilting his head back in utter defeat and giving in to the sensation of a hand that was not his own. It was so amazing that his body froze, forgetting to continue to stroke his partner. "Feels so good…wanted this…you…oh, Lewis!" He managed to choke out as the aforementioned blonde devil suddenly took initiative and pushed him down onto the mattress. Wilbur's eyes glazed over a little as their kissing and fondling continued, but he still managed to whisper his name over and over through their ministrations, his voice becoming more and more desperate as he almost reached the brink.

The blond smiled down at him, giving a particularly long, slow, teasing stroke that made Wilbur's toes curl inside his sneakers and arch his back. "L-Lewis!" he breathed. He'd never been on the 'bottom' in his fantasies, but he was quickly deciding that he didn't mind it.  
"Lewis?" echoed the blonde, biting his lip as Wilbur began to lick and suck his sensitive nipples. "I like it – when you call me that – ah! F-fuck…been a long time…since I've been him."

And it was true. Wilbur was the last person who had ever called him 'Lewis', and it made sense. Cornelius was this man that he was destined to be, but when he was with Wilbur, he didn't want to be that man anymore. World-famous inventor, husband of Franny, everything set in stone, everything known. None of it. This here, right now, this is who he wanted to be forever; feeling safe, loved, deliciously uncertain, right yet wrong. Because it was. What he was doing with his own SON was so fucked up it made him sick to ponder upon, but who could care, when right here, right now, he was not Cornelius, father of Wilbur Robinson. He was Lewis, an orphan boy who met his soul mate through the webbing of time, here there and back again. 'Keep moving forward' had never left as bad a taste in his mouth as it did now, because he wanted nothing more than to stop moving in one direction, to go back to a time before he knew who Wilbur was to him. Because as they had both found out, once you felt something so real for someone, it was impossible to take back. Feelings were not so easily erased, and he would never forget the way his stomach had dropped when he found out they were relatives.

'I'm Lewis when I'm with him' he thought, viciously pulling off Wilbur's pants. The brown-eyed teen stared back up at him with lust as his hands gripped the sheets, his legs parting brazenly of their own accord. Biting his lower lip, his eyes flicked downwards to his own erect member and back up again to meet mischievous blue. The blue was lost for a moment as Lewis moved down out of his line of vision, and he was about to call out when he unexpectedly saw stars. He'd never known pleasure like this. Not even his drunken ventings with Carl had come close, and he tried his best to push those recent memories out of his mind. That was a whole 'nother kettle of crazy that he wasn't willing to deal with for a long, long time. He hadn't failed to notice the noodle-armed husk when he'd come through the window, and even now he could swear its optics were watching him receive his very first blowjob. Carl had always liked to watch.

Lewis bobbed his head up and down, trying not to show how unconfident and inexperienced at this he really was. He wanted more than anything to make his partner feel good, but Wilbur's expressions and little moans were very distracting and driving him crazy. With some embarrassing noises of his own, he quickly fell into a rhythm than seemed to entice out the most delicious of both with increasing frequency. He'd always known Wilbur would be vocal in the sack, but damn. Hearing it for himself, knowing it was his own mouth that was doing this to him made him so full of need than he couldn't help but reach down to slowly pump his own straining erection, shuffling a little clumsily out of his own pants to get better access. Wilbur was staring at him now with lidded eyes, his cheeks and chest pink with arousal, and he snaked his own hands across to play with his nipples as Lewis sucked him off. He rolled the tiny nubs between his fingers as he watched the blur of blonde moving between his legs, and Lewis moaned lewdly at the sight, mouth full of cock, sending vibrations to the core of the erection currently at the back of his throat which only seemed to make Wilbur more enthusiastic. He pulled back just a fraction, sucking hard at the tip and pumping as fast as he could with his free hand, the other working his own hardness to completion. Wilbur's face contorted as a pins and needles sensation wracked his body, and he came hard, thick ropes of white plastering Lewis' open mouth as it cried out in a choked sob. The blonde closed his eyes as he felt the fluid drip down his lips and onto the sheets, and he was about to come when all of a sudden Wilbur was there, making him stop his stroking for the moment. Lewis opened his eyes in confusion. Wilbur looked very weak but his eyes still held that familiar mystifying sparkle, which told the other that he'd come up with an idea. His manhood tingled with excitement at the thought. Leaning forward, Wilbur lay down on his back but quickly man-handled Lewis to be on top of him again, but this time was different. Lewis was crouched over Wilbur's chest, looking down as his straining erection came to rest at a pair of pink, quivering lips. Two lidded, almond eyes gazed up at him from the bed, holding an expression that made the other teen uneasy…but in a good way.

"Fuck my mouth." Wilbur commanded, opening said orifice and blinking slowly.

Lewis did nothing but stare, agape. Surely he had misheard. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said," he drawled, a moist tongue swiping at the leaking tip. "Fuck my mouth like a WHORE."

Both were still for a moment, staring at each other. Lewis' disbelief, wondering if it was really okay, and Wilbur challenging him with a sexy, inviting smile. Impatient, he placed one hand at the small of the younger teen's back, guiding him forwards a bit. "Don't worry about me. There's one good thing that comes out of being the son of Franny…no gag reflex. Believe me, I've tried. You're in for a treat with that woman in the future." There was something there in his tone and expression, but it left his face quickly before Lewis could recognise it.

Lewis had begun to pant uncontrollably at the suggestion, deciding to ignore the comment about Franny for now. Nothing could be further from his mind, and without another word he rested all his weight on his hands. He felt a pang of loss in this position, being unable to see his lover's face, but his cock was beginning to ache from delayed completion. As soon as he felt the wet mouth envelop him from all sides, making Wilbur moan and take him all in, he lost all control. His hips snapped backwards and forwards erratically as his cock hit the back of Wilbur's throat again and again. His whole back shined with sweat, and Wilbur breathed desperately through his nose as he gripped the back of the uncontrollable teen's thighs, encouraging him to thrust even harder. He inhaled the scent of Lewis and worked his tongue as well as he could, which was hard considering how fast the other was moving. This was such a turn-on for him that he even became hard again…teenage refractory periods be damned! As he began to stroke himself too, his little moans made around Lewis' cock sent them both cumming almost in perfect unison. Lewis cried out desperately, his arms weak from his orgasm, before shimmying down Wilbur's body to rest half on top of him, panting. They stayed like that for a while, listening to each others breathing slow, and with Lewis' ear to Wilbur's slightly muscled chest, he could feel his heart beat calming too. Wilbur huffed after a while, his partners' spiky blonde hair was tickling his face and he giggled, trying to smooth it down with one hand before realising that was a very bad idea. They were both covered with the evidence of their lovemaking, and he grimaced a little. Not that it wasn't hot as hell, mind you; but it was beginning to dry and become cold, which was totally icky.

He shifted away from Lewis, meaning to get up and find a towel or something, but Lewis shot an arm out and cuddled into his shoulder, just breathing in his scent. Somehow, it made it more real for him. Wilbur shrugged and settled back into the bed, pulling a sheet over the both of them, feeling Lewis entwine their fingers in an oddly romantic gesture. It was short-lived, however, when he felt something scary…something was not right. Lewis' hand had somehow – no, it couldn't be possible. But it was. Lewis' had slipped right through his hand like it was a ghost, and was resting on the sheet. Wilbur felt panic rise in his torso as he raised his now shaking arm closer to his face for a better look, and sure enough, he could see right through the hand, and the opaqueness was spreading slowly down his wrist.

"Lewis." He breathed, trying to stay calm, trying not to move in case it made it worse. He got only a half-awake 'mm?' in return.  
"LEWIS." He tried again, with more urgency. "I think…oh god, what have we done?"

The other teen sat up at that, his stomach dropping in terror. He saw it now too, and his bright blue eyes flew open wide as he scrambled to put his glasses on to confirm the worst. He was too shocked to act, although the beginnings of panic were very clear on his face, and all he could croak out was a defeated "Why…?"

"I think-" Wilbur started, taking several deep breaths. "We have to stop this, we can't do this again, I can't…" he sobbed then, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, before he came to meet the other teen's gaze. His expression was sad, serious, heartbroken and lost. "We can't see each other until I'm born."

Realisation dawned on Lewis' face.

So that was it. His growing love for Wilbur as a lover was going to make him disappear forever; because in order for Wilbur to exist, Lewis needed to be with Franny. If he slipped up even a little, Franny would realise he didn't love her, and worst of all, she might catch them in the act, leave him, and Wilbur would cease to exist. Why hadn't he thought of this before? It seemed he really was in too deep to consider that being with Wilbur couldn't happen.

"But then, what about when you're born? You'll come for me, right? Please Wilbur, I can't be myself without you." He cried, desperately pulling the other into a tight embrace. Wilbur stroked his hair as they both broke down then, uncaring for the moment that his hand had now become ineffective and the condition was spreading to his elbow. "Lewis." His voice was small and scared, but he knew he had to be the one to take initiative. He was older than Lewis, had dated people before, knew how to break it off, so he wriggled free and began to dress himself while Lewis watched him, unblinkingly. It was hard with only one hand but he managed, buttoning his jeans before turning to face his demons.

"I do." He stated, matter-of-factly. "End up with you, I mean. Spoiler alert: Dad told me when you left last time. I have an uncle Will who looks strangely similar to me, and he comes over every weekend and spends a lot of time alone with Dad." His smile was genuine, but even he knew this didn't happen for a long, long time. Uncle Will had always avoided him, and now he knew why. This experience tonight had taught future-him to never mess with people, past or present, because the consequences could be shattering…he wondered if that was the post-coital brain talking. Funny how he hadn't cared what happened to him when his dick was inside Lewis' mouth.

Lewis nodded slowly, his shining eyes darting to Wilbur's torso which was becoming opaque too. As much as he wanted him to stay, if he had to look at this perfect boy anymore, the love he had for him would end him. He couldn't lose Wilbur again – his mind darted back in time to when Wilbur had been disintegrated before his very eyes, his form dissipating into the clouds. He still had nightmares about that day, and now it was happening again; he could even hear the beginnings of an out-of-season thunderstorm brewing outside. Wilbur turned towards the open window, placing one knee on the ledge and leaning out, refusing to look back. Behind him, he could tell that Lewis had turned over on his side to face the wall, and his uncontrollable crying echoed around the room, cutting straight though Wilbur's heart once again. Lewis heard the click of the window shutting and automatically locking, and he curled up into the foetal position and rocked himself to sleep.

After about an hour, Lewis found the courage to turn over and gaze through his tear-blurred vision at the window. All that was left to remind him it wasn't a dream was a navy-blue, slightly stained shirt with a lightning bolt design on the front. He froze when a robotic whirring noise started from the corner of the room, and a long, copper-coloured robotic arm extended slowly from the shadows and grasped at the shirt, pulling it from Lewis' view in the moonlight into the darkest corner of the room.


End file.
